Living in grey
by GothicAngel17
Summary: Hermione harms herself after two incidents. She thinks differently about Harry's heroism and someone watches her... (First fic plz be kind + review :) )


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the song 'My Immortal' by Evanescence. Sorry if this story has been done before or is extremely rubbish, but I could do with the reviews.  
  
Living in grey:  
  
Hermione lay on her bed, blood dripping down her arm. She had a serene expression on her face, she looked calm, she looked like a goddess. He watched her from the door. Anyone who knew he was there would wonder why he wasn't helping her, demanding she stopped, but he couldn't. Her blood transfixed him as much as her incandescent beauty did. He knew the power of cutting your own flesh. He was connected to Hermione, whether she knew or not. She sat up and he moved so she wouldn't see him. If she knew he was there then she might start locking her door. He couldn't have that. Hermione picked up her knife from the bloody bedspread and put it in a drawer. She wiped her arm delicately with an already blood stained towel and placed it in the drawer also. She hadn't cut that deep this time, he had seen worse. As she put on her robe, tears began to run down her face and the man at the door cried with her, feeling every slice of her pain...  
  
******  
  
Hermione joined Ron and Harry for dinner in the Great Hall. Ron greeted her with a friendly peck on the cheek but Harry ignored her as usual. He hadn't spoken a word to her in the past couple of months when she had rejected his advances and then he had found out she had given the thing he so desperately wanted to another, her virginity. To Harry, Hermione was tainted. But he did not know the truth, that once, she had loved him, more than anything. Something had happened to Hermione; a dark event in the library had opened to her a world of pain, a world that she had never seen before. She had been shielded by Harry and Ron's heroism. They had always beaten any foe they had come across and Hermione had grown up thinking that good triumphed over evil but now she knew it was a lie. The day after the event, Harry had confessed his love for her. One day earlier, she would have cried from happiness but instead she cried from fear. Harry did not know what to do. She had simply repeated, "I can't." Over and over again. Harry had held her, asking if it was him. Hermione had replied that he was the only one, her always, her forever. This was the last time that Harry would see the innocent, naive Hermione he had once known. She was different now. Tainted and impure. What Harry didn't know was something Hermione could never tell him. When Goyle had gone around, gloating that he had fucked Hermione before anyone else did, Harry was furious. He demanded that Hermione denied it. She couldn't lie to Harry. When she looked in his eyes that night that ruined their love, she saw the boy she once loved, everything she once believed in. When his eyes flashed in anger and he struck her across the face. She was too humiliated to confess that when she had said no to Goyle in the library, he wouldn't listen, and went ahead without her permission. Hermione vowed to herself that she would never give herself the chance to love again. She would never feel for anyone what she had felt for Harry because it hurt her so much when he thought she betrayed him. Even though she had done nothing wrong, it still pained her to see the hurt in his eyes. That's when she had turned to her knife, when she had fallen from grace. She had made her plan that night, and she knew it was soon to come to fruition, she was getting weaker...  
  
Hermione chatted amicably with her friends. She seemed in high spirits but the man watching her from another table knew different. He knew the secrets that her blood told as it spilled on the floor late at night.  
  
"Are you gonna come to the common room, Mione?" Ron asked as they left from dinner. She cast a sidelong glance at Harry. "No, I've got some Head-girl stuff to do." Hermione was so grateful that she had her own room this year, that she didn't have to see Harry every morning, every night. It gave her opportunity to find her solace, without risk of interruption. Also, she didn't have to explain to everyone why she was sleeping so much, why she was constantly collapsing, weak from the blood loss. "Okay then." Ron shrugged. "If you finish, you should come down. For me." Ron missed Hermione a great deal. Ever since she had fought with Harry, about what he did not know, he had seen less and less of her. She was looking paler every day. He was worried. "Anything for you, Ron. If I finish." Hermione smiled at Ron, but even her smile was distant. Everything about her was distant nowadays. The smile dropped off Hermione's face as she spotted Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy walking towards them. Goyle's grin stretched from ear to ear. "So, Hermie," he leered at her, "when can we meet again? I've been waiting to get another taste of you." Hermione's mind flashed back to that night in the library. The colour drained from her face, and when Goyle placed a hand of her arm, she remembered how violently he had 'touched' her. She promptly passed out and nearly hit the floor before being caught by Ron. Her eyes fluttered open for a second and she heard Harry's voice. "Is she all right?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Hermione smiled before slipping into unconsciousness.  
******  
  
When she awoke, Madame Pomfrey said she'd be fine and could leave. She thanked her and found an anxious Ron outside the hospital wing. Harry was there also. "Are you okay? What happened? What's going on?" Ron bombarded her with questions she didn't have the mental strength to answer. "Just walk me to my room, okay?" Hermione took a step forward. Her legs buckled and this time Harry caught her. "Here," he said in a low voice, "put your arm around me." Hermione rested on Harry but she was feeling incredibly weak. As she sagged further and further onto Harry's chest, he eventually swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way in silence. When they got to the dorm the Head boy and girl shared, Hermione whispered the password and they entered. Malfoy was reading on one of the sofas and leapt up as soon as he saw Harry and Ron enter. "What the hell are you two doing in here?" He was furious. "Get out!" Harry ignored him and carried Hermione into her bedroom whilst Ron tried to shut Draco up, and explain to him that Hermione wasn't well. Harry sat Hermione on the bed, and began to remove her robe. "No, don't, Harry," she murmured softly. "I wasn't going to hurt you." He whispered, with hurt in his voice. "I know you weren't, darling." Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but she couldn't let him see. He picked her up again and laid her on the bed, tucking her in and kissing her forehead in such an affectionate manner that made the tears in Hermione's eyes spill down her cheeks. "It'll be all right, Mione." Harry whispered, stroking her hair. "I'll always be there to save you." As he left the room, she whispered, half hoping that Harry would hear her, "liar. You weren't there to save me from myself." Harry walked out the door and Hermione cried silently, drifting in and out of sleep...  
  
Hermione woke sometime in the night when it was still dark. The memories of the previous night came flooding back to her. She loved Harry, but he didn't want her anymore. She wished that she didn't have to see him anymore. She wanted him in her life as her lover or not at all. She would rather be dead than have him not to talk to her. She was tired, so tired of it all. She was tired of Harry's hero act; he didn't seem to understand that darkness lived in all people, not just in 'baddies' like Voldemort. Harry only saw black and white but Hermione lived in grey. Besides, she had been slowly dying since the day Harry had slapped her. Her soul and her body were both dying. It was time. It would soon be over. Everything she had done had been for Harry and now she had nothing to live for. She opened the drawer that contained her knife. She took it out and taking off her shirt, found uncut flesh. She sliced the skin, shuddering at the exquisite pain. She felt some of the pain drip away with the blood and smiled at the way she felt. She loved the control she had, satisfied that she could hurt herself more than Goyle could. She cut and cut and cut and cut until her vision blurred.  
  
He watched what she was doing. He knew that this was the last time he would ever watch the angel fall further into her doom. He knew and she knew as well. This was to be it, this was her suicide. He knew he should move to stop her but he didn't want to. He was mesmerised, as he had been every time he had seen the cuts on her pale flesh appear. He had noticed how she never healed them, and that for the past two months she had been bleeding continuously, always dripping her scarlet elixir. He had followed her, wiping up the drops that had fallen off her arm. He had treasured these drops as he would treasure the knife she always used. Suddenly, Hermione turned round. She now was bleeding from every part of her body except her face. "It's okay." She said to the shadows. "I know you watch me." Hermione's voice was one of someone who had just woken up. "Come out, I'm sure you want to see the end." She sat on her bed and the man emerged from the shadows. "Do me a favour." The man nodded. "Get me a piece of paper from the desk. I need to write something, for Harry. And when I'm done, I want you to take my diary out of the drawer and keep it safe. You can read it, but no one else. And take my knife, don't ever lose it. Promise me?" Her voice was weak. The man nodded again. He stood up and got the paper from her desk as well as a quill. He kissed her on the cheek whispering, "Your beautiful when you bleed." Hermione nodded and smiled. "I know you understand. Thank you." She turned her face to his and they kissed passionately for a moment. They broke apart and the man sat down on a chair opposite her and handed her the paper and quill and watched her bleed...  
  
******* "Hermione? Where are you?" Ron asked as he ventured into the Head's dormitory. He and Harry had become worried when she hadn't shown for breakfast and had used the advantage of knowing the password to go directly to Hermione's dorm room. They had asked Malfoy, but he had shrugged telling them he didn't see her this morning. "Mione?" Harry shouted. "Let's go to her room." Ron nodded in agreement. They went into her room. She was lying on her bed. "Mione, you lazy thing, your still asleep!" Harry scolded gently. It was then that Ron noticed her eyes were open. "Harry, no, don't go over there." "Ron, she is asleep isn't..." Harry's voice trailed off when he also noticed her eyes. "Oh God." He slumped to the floor. "Oh God." Ron ventured to her side and pulled the covers away. He immediately turned around and retched. There was blood everywhere. Besides her face, there was not a bit of undamaged skin on her beautiful, naked body. Ron turned back around, pulled the covers back over her and closed her eyes, so it looked like she was sleeping. He found a piece of paper on her pillow and read it. He handed it to Harry and then fell to the floor beside his friend. Harry read the bloodied parchment and knowing it was for him, burst into tears and sobbed for hours until Malfoy came back from Quidditch practise to find the two of them on the floor and Hermione dead...  
  
i'm so tired of being here  
  
suppressed by all of my childish fears  
  
and if you have to leave  
  
i wish that you would just leave  
  
because your presence still lingers here  
  
and it won't leave me alone  
  
these wounds won't seem to heal  
  
this pain is just too real  
  
there's just too much that time cannot erase  
  
when you cried i'd wipe away all of your tears  
  
when you'd scream i'd fight away all of your fears  
  
and i've held your hand through all of these years  
  
but you still have all of me  
  
you used to captivate me  
  
by your resonating light  
  
but now i'm bound by the life you left behind  
  
your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams  
  
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me  
  
i've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone  
  
and though you're still with me  
  
i've been alone all along  
  
****** At the funeral everyone cried for the loss of Hermione Granger. Harry and Ron had been the last to leave her grave, blaming themselves for not noticing, for not acting. Ron cried for the death of his friend. Harry cried for the death of his soul, he had loved her and he had killed her. He knew inside that he had caused her suicide. They were wrong; they weren't the last to leave. A tall figure appeared at the gravesite and laid down a black rose and a note. The note, which was attached to the rose, left a simple message: 'I'll miss watching you bleed. DM.' 


End file.
